A Change in the Winds
by Gaby1018
Summary: She had loved him once, hadn’t she? It was a small comfort, that once when they were all young and foolish she had told him so. Chuck, Nate and Blair find themselves repeating history, entangled in a web of lies, secrecy and love. Mostly CB, really.
1. Chapter 1

Always, there's a space between them.

Even when their bodies are against each other, even as he is kissing her, his lips against hers, he feels it, wedging in and pushing its way through. It isn't enough to be close to her physically, touch every inch of her, yearning to cross the worlds separating them. It isn't enough for him.

Many times he'd try to speak up and ask her something, but felt it was too personal. Ironic, considering their history. He wants to know her again, like he used to. But she's made it clear enough that all she wants to do is sleep with him. Given what they've been through, he could not help but hope, a little, pathetic though it may be that somehow, she still felt something.

She had loved him once, hadn't she? It was a small comfort, that once when they were all young and foolish she had told him so.

-

He watches her from where he is lying on his bed, her silhouette moving silently at the edge of his bed.

"Where are you going?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"Home, Chuck."

"I'll take you there."

"A cab will be here in five minutes to pick me up," she tells him, pausing in the darkness. "Nate won't be home yet."

"What time is it?"

She pauses. "Quarter to nine."

His eyes shift, involuntarily, to the wedding ring on her finger, glinting off the moonlight. He knows on that band are the words _My beloved is mine, and I am my beloved's, _a passage from the Bible. Song of Songs, not that either Blair or Nate are religious.

He shuts his eyes again, unwilling to watch her yet again walk away. As she does most every night they are together. The door clicks softly, and she's gone, that fast, as if nothing had ever happened. There was a time they had so much to talk about, so much feeling. Where did it all go?

He runs his hand through the sheets where she had been, feeling the cool cloth beneath his fingers. Fifteen minutes from now, Blair would be entering her own room, heading to the bathroom and then brushing her teeth. Wiping him out. And then she'll go play with her daughter, and when Nate arrives, kiss him the way she kissed him just now. Manhattan calls them the Upper East Side's golden family, its very own royalty. Perfect.

And even though he's the only one who can see the cracks, she really does seem to love Nate. Nearly four years in marriage now, he thinks. She talks about him sometimes, and her daughter Sophie, the things they do together, the places they go to. Things he never asked to hear. When she kisses him, he feels like it's Nate on her mind. Not him.

--

Part of the rules she saw fit to establish was that he would not strain beyond civilities with her in public. And he has always obliged. He never speaks more than a couple seconds to her in public, never smiles at her, never says anything that may suggest the affair. But she says he is too polite.

"Nate's beginning to wonder why, you know,' she told him.

"I suppose I can smother you."

Tonight is no different. He sees her with Nathaniel, with Sophie, laughing and smiling at each other and he is insane. But he knows that if he doesn't play by her rules, there wouldn't be a game at all.

"What is Chuck Bass doing in the corner?"

He turns his head, growling at the sight of Dan.

"Drinking scotch."

"No, no. I think you're sulking." Dan sits down next to him, to Chuck's dismay, and orders his own drink.

"What the hell do you know about me, Humphrey? Just because you're dating my sister, who by the way, you don't deserve."

"You don't deserve anyone," Dan retorts calmly.

"Do you?"

Chuck sips his drink with a smirk. He would be accused of being heartbroken if it weren't for his reputation. It protected him from what was obviously true.

"I'm going to find _my sister_," he says, after drowning the Scotch in a gulp. He looks at the man with disdain. "I suggest you don't."

He walks past the band, weaves his way through the chatting crowd of familiar faces. Tonight is Lily's birthday, which is really the only reason why he came. He sees Eric by the foot of the staircase and changes direction towards his brother, already glad to have found him. Then something tugs at his pants from behind.

"What the—"

He looks down at the little girl, her eyes looking up innocently at him, filled with tears. A pink headband is perched precariously on her head.

"What is it?"

"I'm lost," she cries, rubbing her eyes.

"Oh God," he mutters. "Okay, okay. Don't cry." He looked around, sees that Eric is gone from where he was. "When did you last see your mommy and daddy?"

"I dunno."

Her lips begin to quiver dangerously, a sign he knows all too well to feel secure. Awkwardly, he hands her his handkerchief and takes her other small hand, wet and soft, into his. He looks down at her expression, slightly better, and frowns, mirroring her own.

"Where is Serena when I need her?"

"Aunt Sewena?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Carry me."

"What?"

"Carry me!"

He eyes her, and then her suit. "Fine." Stooping down, he picks the girl up, her little arms outstretched and picks her up. "Just so you know, this suite is quite expensive."

"Mommy and Daddy."

He would never admit his weakness for his girl, to the point of carrying her, even as people can see right now. Just because she's Sophie Waldorf-Archibald. With her clear-cut blue eyes, mahogany ringlets and Waldorf attitude, he is sure one day, she'll conquer the Upper East side like her mother. He thinks how odd this looks, how nice it feels, as he keeps an eye out for Nate and Blair.

"Sophie!"

And there they are only feet away, looking frantic with Serena. She takes Sophie from him carefully, and when their hands touched, flesh to flesh, the electricity coursed through his veins, clearing his mind despite the drinks he'd had. Their eyes meet perfectly, just a second, until she looks away.

"Chuck, thank you," Nate tells him. "I don't know what could've happened to her."

"Well, she found me. She's smart."

Nate smiles at Sophie, in her mother's arms. "You can't doubt it came from Blair."

"Where was she anyways?" Serena asks.

"Not far from the bar. Demanded I find her parents."

"Lily won't mind if we leave a little early will she?" Nate asks. "We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"No, no of course not. I'm sure she'll understand."

He steals a glance at Blair, who is busy asking questions, which to his amusement Sophie readily answers.

"Do you knows how worried daddy and I were?"

"_Vewy_ worried, mommy?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Thirsty."

Chuck thinks this scene right now is priceless.

"Blair, it's not her fault," Nate says gently. "Things like this happen. She's fine now, all right?"

She hesitates. "I turned around one second and she was gone," she admits, emotional.

He places his hand around her waist, bringing his girls closer. "It's not your fault either."

Witnessing this scene, Chuck turns to watch some people behind them, as if they are the most intersting people he knows. A man in a mustache, funny looking in his tight suit, kisses the hand of a woman holding a flute of champagne. Serena is looking at him too.

"Have you seen Dan?"

"No."

Sophie holds up the handkerchief in her hands.

"Where did you get that?"

She points at Chuck. "Him."

For a second, he thinks Blair might've smiled at him, a fraction of a second. In his delusions, maybe, because she hasn't done that to him a long time now. A real, genuine smile.

In her mother's arms, Sophie grins.

"Serena, do you think Lily will mind if we leave a little early? Blair and I have a full day tomorrow."

"I'm sure she'll understand. I'll tell her for you guys."

They trade kisses the four of them: Blair, Nate, Sophie and Serena as he watches quietly. Then Nate grins, shakes his hand and thanks him again. Chuck can't help but think about how his best friend, almost a brother, knows nothing about the fact that he sleeps with his wife. Blair looks at him. Without words, he already understands what she's trying to say. His lips curve into a subtle half-smile.

"Say goonight to Uncle Chuck and Aunt Serena, baby."

"Sweet dweems!"

"Take care of my godchild, all right?" Serena grins.

**Please, review! I'm not sure if I should continue this, but if I do, the next chapter will involve Blair's POV. **


	2. Chapter 2

"You look beautiful, Mrs Archibald."

She smiles, and inches closer to his grinning face, absolutely adoring his eyes. The way they glisten like the sea under the sun. How kind and loving they are. And then a flash of dark eyes comes to mind; the familiar guilt once again washing over her.

"I'm just worried about Sophie," she says after seeing the concern in his expression.

"She's going to be fine. I promise."

She snorts. "With Serena? She's my best friend but her babysitting skills, Nate, aren't too good."

"Well, Dorota's with her."

"Good point."

"And tonight's our anniversary. We might lose the reservations soon."

"Sometimes I forget how long I've been married to you," she tells him, smiling. "Like I've been wearing this ring my whole life."

"Is that so bad?"

"No. I love it."

"Good. Or else I would have to leave you," he teases, drawing her close with his arms.

"You would never leave me."

There are nights she finds herself unable to sleep, consumed by worries that Nate might one day find out about her sleeping with Chuck. The last time in high school was bad enough. This time, there is Sophie. And then what would happen to them, their family? Even Chuck didn't deserve it.

And it's not for lack of trying to end their relationship. But every time she's with him, it feels impossible, and when she is with Nate, she is resolved to do it, quickly before he finds out.

"Why so cocky?"

"Because you love me."

"And you love me," he agrees.

He leans down to kiss her, and she closes her eyes, his lips against hers, the delicious taste of mint and whiskey of his mouth. His clean and fresh scent enters her nostrils, his flesh warm on hers. After three years of marriage, she still loves this. She pauses, pulls back and licks her lips.

"We'll never get to that restaurant now," she breathes.

--

They spend the evening eating little, talking and enjoying each other's company. Like newlyweds, they hold hands without letting go. And she smiles and kisses him, but always nagging at the back of her mind is guilt. One day she will be insane with this.

Halfway through the night, her phone rings. Thinking it's Dorota, she hurriedly reads the text.

_Happy Anniversary, B. _

_-Chuck._

"Who is it?"

"It's Dorota," Blair lies with a conscious smile. Her lips, suddenly, feel so tired. "She said Serena's extended Sophie's bedtime."

"How_ is_ our little princess?"

"Perfect."

"See? I told you she'd be fine."

Blair could only smile and hope he wouldn't see through her.

Later, they come home to find Serena sleep on the couch in Sophie's bedroom, Dorota beside look completely exhausted. Blair stifles a laugh, and throws Nate a knowing look as their daughter sits up in bed, grinning.

"Hey baby," she says.

"Hewo."

"You tired Aunt Serena and Dorota," Nate whispers, taking Sophier in his arms. Blair smiles, proceeds to wake the sleeping figures, ready to laugh.

"Not sleepy."

"Sweetheart, it's hours past your bedtime."

"Not sleepy."

"How about you sleep in mommy and daddy's room tonight?"

"Actually, mommy and daddy want privacy," Blair reminds him, turning around. The most adorable look comes upon her husband's face, of sheepish recollection and a smirk.

"Right. Sorry, baby. I'll read you a story instead, okay?"

"Milk."

"Milk too."

"Wake up, S," Blair murmurs, shaking Serena lightly. "Wake up."

"Hmm?" Serena groans, looking around in a daze. Dorota stirs too, and with horror, apologizes and scurries out.

"You weren't drinking, were you?"

"Of course not. . ."

Behind them, Sophie is telling Nate about her night, how she jumped on her bed, high on chocolate from "Aunt Sewena".

Serena grins apologetically. "I figured—"

"It's fine," Blair reassures her. "Today's a special occasion anyway."

"How was your romantic anniversary dinner with Nate?" Serena asks, smiling.

"Perfect."

"I can't believe you've been married three years now!"

"Pretty soon you'll be married too, only your groom isn't nearly as handsome as mine," Blair retorts, laughing.

"Dan doesn't smoke."

"Well, Nate quit. That's much harder."

--

It started after Chuck came back from China after a few years. He had come home the same, self-sufficient man he had always been, but there was something different with him. Perhaps it was maturity. She isn't really sure. He became polite in her presence, almost stiff, restraining from his crude jokes and comments.

And she for his part avoided him, still uncomfortable around his presence. The only times they talked was when Nate was with them; it was him who acted as mediator.

"You never told us much about how it was," Nate said cheerfully one day. They were all in the Palace bar, drinking, and "catching up".

"Not much to tell, honestly. You have much more to tell," he replied, referring to his family.

She twirled the cherry in her drink, stared at it intensely.

"Sophie just turned one two months ago."

"Serena sent me pictures while I was in China," Chuck revealed, glancing at her. She ignored it. "She's beautiful, Nathaniel. Although she looks a lot more like Blair."

It turned frigid around him. That was how she had felt, like everything froze and suddenly, she was this clumsy teenager who felt too awkward to speak. Someone strange to her. All she wanted was to be far away from him, and wouldn't have minded at all if he turned around and flew back to China.

After all, she had been happy with her new life without him.

And because they ran in the same social circles, it was inevitable they see each other frequently, although there were times he did not show up. He's busy, Serena or Lily would explain. But she knew better, and kept it to herself.

One evening during a dinner party, she excused herself from the table to retouch her makeup. And in the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom was Chuck, who looked like he had come from the restroom. She pondered whether to greet him or not.

"Hey," he said hesitantly.

"I thought you were busy."

He looked at her strangely. "Not tonight. No."

"That's good."

"How's Sophie?"

"She's with Nate right now."

"How are you?" he asks. They both knew this was all formality.

"Fine."

And it happened so fast she couldn't stop herself. They were lucky nobody passed by to see them, witness this act of adultery. When he kissed her, it was with fire she recognized easily. And she was ashamed to admit it was that feeling which kept her from thinking through it.

**I'm sorry it took long. . .School's pretty busy now, since they're cramming quizzes and tests together. I blame Swine Flu:)**

**Please Review! **

**TBC, hopefully. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry fot the late update! I've been down and busy the whole week. **

A warm August night. Chuck is staring out his window at the busy metropolitan sky, flashing with lights, the clouds thick and purple. He could imagine, without hearing at all, all the noises outside of the buses and cars, people hurrying to get home. And in here, in here there is nothing but silence.

Beside him, she is completely still. And naked under his cool, white sheets, her skin beautiful against the cloth, and soft and smooth. He closes his eyes, swallows a lump. Hardly resisting her.

His eyes travel near the foot of the bed, his closet, and particularly, a rather large drawer that he knows is empty. She wouldn't say yes, he knows. There is no reason for her to.

"What time is it?' she asks. The sudden sound almost echoes to his ears.

He fidgets to see more clearly his watch. She had made it sound as though she's itching to leave.

"Quarter to eight."

"Ten minutes, then."

"I'll call you a cab." He knows too well not to offer to bring her home.

"Thank you."

He pauses. "So how was it?"

"What, the sex?"

He thinks she is mocking him."No."

"My anniversary."

"Yes."

"It was romantic," she says, and even without looking he knows she's smiling, or at least fighting the urge to. He wants to roll his eyes.

"That's great."

It's been a long time, he thinks, his thoughts drifting away again, since he's been happy. _Really_ happy. enough to feel like nothing else mattered, that if he could live his life in an oblivion like happiness, it would satisfy him. Sometimes he longs to go back to his childhood, though not in most ways a happy one, was at least simpler. He imagines there were some moments where he was a normal child, who found joy in something.

_Really _happy, the kind that makes it enough to forget every imperfection, every problem and just look at the bigger picture, almost in oblivion. Maybe if his life was simpler. If he wasn't CEO of a multimillion dollar company, if he hadn't fallen kissed her that one night, if she wasn't married. He wouldn't exactly say he's lonely. But it's that feeling every morning he gets, and every night, that he's just tired of it all.

"What is your problem?"

And suddenly he doesn't feel like lying down, laying still while she throws insults at him and he has to shut his eyes and pretend to hear nothing. He is sick of this game, of being just a pawn and not being able to control the pieces, being played around like nothing.

"Like hell you don't know," he spits, throwing the covers off and furiously putting on his clothes.

"What?"

He buttons his shirt up, and then looks at her, sitting up on that bed, one hand holding up the sheets to her. Anger washes over him, as pure as hate and love. She doesn't even know.

"You know what I spent my night doing yesterday?"

"Getting drunk, getting laid?"

And when he speaks, his voice of full of all the unspoken frustrations and anger, raised and ready for battle.

"I worked. And when I got home, I was so damn exhausted I couldn't even eat dinner. Today I learned that one of my directors on the board had a heart attack and is now in surgery for his life. You don't care about any of this, Blair. But I'm exhausted. Don't you understand? I'm tired."

She seems surprised at his outburst, and so is he. The stillness in the room even now is only disturbed by his breathing, her rustling on the bed.

"You're not the only one," she says, finally.

"What are we doing, Blair? I didn't know then. I don't know now, and you made it clear you're never going to leave Nathaniel."

"I have a family!"

"You're using me," he accuses, venom lacing his voice. "You married too young, and you miss your freedom, and that's why you're here."

"That's what you think?"

"Am I right?"

"No. Were you suggesting we had a future together?' she asks, a dry laugh in the last words, as she too starts putting her clothes back on.

He hesitates, chooses the right words, and lowers his tone. "I'm not the same man I was in high school, Blair."

He looks into her eyes for her to know he isn't lying about this one. Never in his life has he ever felt so certain, that if only she gave him a chance, he could prove it to her. This time, he would be ready for her. He's had enough of screwing up.

"As much as I want to believe you, Chuck," she starts, heavy with emotion. She looks away, blinking quickly, her eyes clear, pink around the edges. "I can't."

"Why not?" he asks quietly. He shuffles forward closer to her, helps her with her dress, and turns her around, his hands on her wrists, so they are face to face. "Why not?"

There's that look smile again, full of sadness, reluctance and brimming tears that he knows too well. She had it on the day she threw his flowers in the elevator, when she had asked him, so simply, to tell her he loved her and he couldn't. He put her hand to his lips, shaking his head.

"You're Chuck Bass. I know you think otherwise, but our future together. . .It doesn't exist. There is none." And to shift the mood, she adds, "Besides, the day I see you get married is the day my father leaves Roman and says he's not, in fact, gay."

He grins, though it breaks his heart. "Impossible, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"You know I can take care of you."

"It's not that."

"Do you really love him?" he presses.

No hesitation. No pausing, or silence; she's sure, and he hates it. "Yes. Of course I do."

"So what am I?"

"I have to go," she interjects decisively, pulling away from him, twisting her hands free.

He knows better than to keep her.

**Please, please, please review:)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this is months late, but I couldn't write the right chapter. This one is lighter than the others, and it shows more sides of Chuck than him just pining for Blair all the time. He's a brother too.**

She asked him, once, in one of those rare conversations they had at night, what his plans were for the future. He thought it strange, since of course, he was already CEO of Bass Industries.

"Not that," she replied. "You know, things like travelling, and family. Marriage. Anything?"

By the thin stream of light on her face, he saw no hint of jealousy at all, and was disappointed. She could have been a manager interviewing him indifferently. And she wasn't even looking at him.

"Chuck?"

"I don't have any plans."

"Why not?"

"Well, things usually don't. . .work out the way I plan. It's better this way, no expectations. I'm not like you. "

"Not expectations, goals," she corrected him; he smiled.

"Sorry."

"You don't want a family?"

He scoffed, softly. "You know I'd be a terrible father. Just like mine was."

"Probably." Her voice was light.

There is an entire plan in her head, he knew, that she had made when she was only ten. Years old Nothing less than perfect: Nate, Yale, a family, taking over her mother's business, prestige, growing old with Nate. Those were the main points.

Sometimes he wishes it were him, and not his friend in her plans. But he can never grow old with her, try as he might, for all his drinking and smoking.

"Bass Industries is all I have."

"But who will you pass it on to? Since you don't want children of your own."

"I'm sure I'll have a competent enough niece or nephew." But he doubts it. "Or Sophie."

"Why my daughter?"

"Because she's part Waldorf. Smart, ferocious. It's the next best thing after a Bass."

"Surely you're kidding."

"You know, I just might be serious."

But her eyes were faraway already.

---

Today they are all here. Van der Woodsens, Archibalds, Humphreys and him. The lone Bass. It's a Sunday morning and Serena's called them all for brunch for reasons still unknown to him. The Met's glittering marble floor blinds him.

He is sitting as far away as the table can allow from Blair, Nate and Sophie. And she's too busy with Sophie to even look at him—he's glad for it. He resists looking at them, everytime he hears her laugh. For now he's fine, chatting with Eric, feigning impatience that he had to attend brunch so early.

Suddenly he notices something odd.

"Serena, why aren't you drinking?"

She frowns. "Yes, I am. Orange juice."

"I meant drinking wine."

Guilt, or loss crosses her eyes, and it's obvious. By now most of the table are watching her, and Serena looks at Dan, biting her lip.

"Oh, God. Humphrey knocked you up, didn't he? This is what this whole thing is about?"

"Charles," Lily says. "Don't jump to conclusions. It's not impossible for Serena to want all of us here on this morning fo—"

"It's true," Serena admits slowly, smiling nervously and holding Dan's hand. "I'm pregnant."

Suddenly the whole table erupts into cheers and questions, Lily especially enthusiastic and glowing, Dan grinning ear to ear. Chuck is stunned. He stares at his sister, and he glances at Blair to see her reaction, but she looks only excited for Serena.

"How far along are you?" Lily asks.

"A few weeks. But I just found out about it two days ago when I kept getting sick, everywhere. Dan was the one who suggested I go to the doctor for a check-up, and they told me I was pregnant." She laughs."I've already been craving cupcakes."

Eric grins. "That explains dessert."

"It gets worse," Blair promises. "Trust me. You'll balloon to thrice your size, and you'll want to run to the bathroom every five minutes. But don't worry, if Dan leaves you we'll go after him."

"If we're that lucky," Chuck mutters. Dan looks at him.

"Don't worry. I won't be repulsed by my soon-to-be giant and hormonal girlfriend."

"Thanks."

"Hey, a pregnancy is just as difficult for us guys." Nate says, and pulls Sophie on his lap. The toddler runs her hands all over Nate's face and giggles. "We're the ones who run across town to find something as small as a bagel the way you like it, and keep up with your raging hormones."

"I wasn't that bad."

"You had hormones like drugs, Blair."

"I kicked you out of bed _once_ to get chocolate cake—"

"And another time for raspberry tart, Gramercy cheesecake, and meringue pie. It's amazing how Sophie came out only seven pounds. You nearly broke my hand when you were giving birth."

"You're lucky it was only that, sweetheart."

This is enough.

Chuck rolls his eyes, throws his napkin on his plate and excuses himself for moment. It's getting too warm and personal and strange for him, especially with pregnancy being the topic. Blair is sharing her stories, Dan is acting like he belongs, and Serena is pretending this pregnancy didn't have the potential to ruin her.

"I'll be right back," he tells Lily. "Just need to make some calls."

Abruptly, he steps back and nods at the waiter to open the doors for him. The halls greet him with the echoing of his own footsteps, sunlight pouring in from the large windows. He pauses before one of them, closes his eyes for a bit.

Things were so much simpler in China. He didn't have family obligations there; he didn't have anyone to look after but himself.

In Beijing, he has an apartment that overlooks the hazy, smoke-filled city, smaller than the one he has here in Manhattan. Living in another country had changed him. He was, for the most part, alone in a foreign city. And he loved it.

The only help he had was a part-time housekeeper who came to the house and cleaned, did laundry and everything else when he left for work. And because he couldn't cook for his life, he ate mostly out. Restaurants littered the streets near to where he lived, and he would eat alone. Seldom did he miss real company, and if he did, he called Serena, Eric or Lily for a chat.

Here he is the man who is having an affair with his best friend's wife. All over again. The billionaire playboy, the orphan, the ruthless, lonely businessman.

It's what society does, label people so tightly it suffocates them.

"Chuck!"

He turns to see Serena walking towards him, her heels clicking resonately.

"What do you want?"

"I know you're upset."

"Really," he scoffs sarcastically. "I wonder what gave me away."

"You're my brother, Chuck—"

"Half-brother." He only corrects her when he is angry.

"—and you're going to be this baby's uncle whether you like it or not," she finishes. "I want you to be there for him, or her."

He frowns. "Serena, you're twenty four years old, you're unmarried, and you're going to have a child in nine months time. Do you realize the repercussions of your recklessness? People are going to talk. What the hell were you thinking?"

For a moment, she looks taken aback by his almost yelling, and he feels that first rush of guilt.

"I won't be unmarried, Chuck."

"What—you're marrying him too?"

"Yes."

"Just because you got pregnant."

"I love him," she says bravely, quietly. "I know you understand how that feels. I know you don't like Dan, but you'll have to. For me."

He ponders her words for a bit. And he doesn't say why he dislikes Dan, who has a loving family and people to protect him. Whereas he had virtually grown up an orphan. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, they all said. Nevermind that he grew up as the son who killed his mother, and that his father ignored him for most of his life.

That he lived privileged in terms of money, but was deprived of a family, of how it is to be human. Of love. Nobody thinks of that.

He looks at her stomach, and imagines it carrying a life. In a few months it would kick, with eyes and fingers and feet, swimming. People will talk, for sure. But he'll make sure to take care of that. "Let me see the sonogram."

Serena grins and pulls it out of her purse, the black and blue picture like a card in her hand.

"It's that tiny thing there," she points out. "See it?"

"Yes. I think it's a boy. Don't you?"

She grins. "We'll know in about two months or so."

For a moment, he allows himself to be happy for her. He can manage being an uncle, he thinks, and for Serena's sake he'll minimize his animosity towards Dan Humphrey. Play nice for a bit. That would show Blair.


	5. Chapter 5

**It's going to get rolling now. I mean the story:)**

**Thanks for reviewing, finnlover! This is for you.**

Here it is again, the wide, despicable space between them pushing the silence. This time, she has her back turned against him, unable to face him and feel no guilt, no remorse. It's written all over her.

When she is with Nate, she promises herself that she will stay away from Chuck, and wonders why she needs him so much when she tells herself she doesn't love him. Then he calls. Or texts, or simply looks her way, and it's a done deal. She can't resist.

Tonight is no different.

Her phone rings loudly all of a sudden, and Blair picks it up quickly as to not wake him. She knows he's tired from a long day at work.

"Blair Waldorf," she answers.

"Blair—oh thank God you answered! You must come to Paris at once."

"Roman?"

Beside her, Chuck stirs, meets her eyes with an inquisitive look. But she hears and sees nothing, after the words "hospital" and "blood."

Without one more word, she puts her clothes on and rushes down on her heels. Leaving Chuck to wonder what happened. She steals a cab from an old couple, apologizing frantically, and rushes home where she finds Sophie playing with the nanny obliviously. Nate is home soon enough, having gotten a frantic call from her.

He offers to tell Sophie, instead of her, and she is grateful. She's in no state. When Sophie starts asking questions, unable to comprehend everything, begins to cry, Nate takes her into his arms while still keeping an eye on Blair.

"I'll book us a jet," he tells her gently. "First thing tomorrow, we'll be there in Paris. I promise."

Blair nods, and he draws her shaking body closer to his. His lips are at her forehead, comforting and whispering to her as if she were a little child. And she finds it difficult to stay steady when he is like this.

"It's going to be okay, Blair. It was a freak accident, that's all."

Does the guilt ever go away?

--

She has never seen her father look so lifeless. He has always been so smiling, so lively, his eyes always dancing that she can't believe it's him. He's very pale, very still, and he looks smaller to her, somehow, in that white bed with Roman by his side.

"How is he?" she ventures to ask quickly. Beside her, Nate is carrying Sophie, who is asleep, and he looks at her in concern.

She had dreaded this moment since last night, knowing how helpless she would feel seeing him like this. But it was much worse that she had imagined, with the transparent wires pierced through his skin, the room white and smelling of sickness.

"The doctors told me that it depends, on. . .when he wakes up."Roman looks at Sophie, a soft smile cracking his lips. "She's grown so much."

Blair looks at Roman, and knows _if_ he woke up, was the right sentence.

"He just came out of surgery. He's haemorrhaging. Yes, that's what they said. He's bleeding into his brain." Roman seemed absent-minded.

It is silent for a while, in the room. Except for the machines beeping, the chaos in her mind, Blair hears nothing.

"How did this happen?" Nate finally asks, as if he had read her mind.

"I don't know." Roman sounds exhausted, drained. "I found him lying on the patio. There was. . .blood where his head was. A pool of it. He must've slipped and fell—"

Blair could not take it. Without thinking, she bursts out running into the comfort room, where she locks herself into the first stall and lets it all out. The tears and the worries. She doesn't care if anyone saw her dashing in, or hears her now.

What if she loses him? She couldn't imagine that her father, so usually full of life, could slip easily into death. She would never hear him laugh again. And why him? He had never been a bad person to anyone; he was, before this, healthy and only approaching sixty. He needs to wake up. He needs to be in her life, in Sophie's life, because she needs him. If he leaves them now, there will always be that hole, a darkness, in her world.

It feels like she is in a bad dream, because something like this happens in fantasies only. Only in nightmares. Not in the real world. Not in her world.

"Blair."

The sobs escaping her are unstoppable, the tears falling from her creased, closed eyes impossible to control, try as she might. Her body trembles against the side of the stall, her cheek pressed against it. Nate is calling for her to open the door.

"This is the women's room," she chokes out.

"I know."

She tries to stifle her sobs, and fails.

"Let me in. Blair, please."

Nothing.

"Blair, I'm not going anywhere. Open the door, please. Blair."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. I know you, remember?"

"Please just go," she breathes, her chest rising and convulsing in sobs. "Please, Nate."

"I'll wait here."

"Sophie—"

"Is fine. You are not." There's a pause. "Let me in. Don't shut me out like this, Blair."

Shaky, she tries to compose herself before letting him in, pull herself together but it barely works. She's a mess.

"You have to let me in," he tells her earnestly.

Unbolting the door, she tries to think of something, something else that won't threaten her back into a breakdown, and bites down on her lip. Nate comes in and wraps her arms around her. This breaks her again, and she's shaking and crying even more now.

"He can't—Nate, I don't know if I can. . ." Her voice shatters, sobs stealing her breath. "If—I can go back in there—"

"I know you can."

"No, no, you don't understand—"

"He needs you to. And so does Roman, Blair. He can't do this alone."

Behind them, a woman of about fifty walks in, and upon seeing them entwined, walks back out.

And they don't move. Nate and Blair stay that way, his hands warm around her, her tears bleeding into his shirt, his chin tucked on her head. A perfect fit. He is patient, and she appreciates it, more than she has ever felt before.

He waits for her to stop shaking. And when she thinks she is almost ready, she looks up at him, knowing his eyes are solace to her, and asks:

"How did this happen to us?"

Nate shakes his head. "We can't help it, Blair. Accidents happen. Life happens. That's all I'm sure of."

"Do you believe in God? In Heaven?"

"I believe it's too early to talk like that." He offers her a reassuring smile. "Should we go back?"

She nods. He pushes the door open a bit wider, steps out, and waits for her. They make their way quietly back to the room. There is a knot at the back of her throat protesting, and all she sees is her father lying pale on those white sheets, his head bandaged, his lips dry. She fears that the second she sees Harold again, her tears will give away.

"I'm sorry," she tells Roman, when they enter. Sophie is still asleep on the couch.

He nods, understanding. "There is nothing to forgive, ma Cherie."

"How long have you been here?" she asks him, to avoid looking at her father.

"Three days."

"You haven't left?"

"No. I can't."

"We'll stay here," Nate interjects gently. He puts a hand on the older man's shoulder. "A good night's sleep will do you good."

"I can't leave him."

"We insist," Nate replies. "Let us do this for you."

Roman sighs. "One night?"

"As long as you want."

"Would you mind taking Sophie?" Blair asks, picking her up. "I realize we're asking a lot from you, Roman, and it's okay if you—"

"No problem," he says, as she transfers Sophie into his arms. Nate and Blair both kiss her goodbye. "She looks more and more like you every time I see her."

Blair offers a small smile, but feels guilty for it.

"Lucky she does," Nate tells them. "Thank you, Roman."

"And you'll call me, if anything happens?"

"I promise."

And Blair can't help but notice, that when Roman pulls his bag up to his shoulder and turns to leave, he looks one last time back at Harold, a lingering gaze, a sad one, before closing the door behind him.

She takes a seat where Roman had been. Gathering courage, and her voice. Wake up, she thinks. Please wake up.

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is sad chapter. But Chuck is really adorable here, so I hope you enjoy!**

Harold survived three more nights after she came. He passed away at 12:06 in the morning, when Blair had briefly gone out for coffee. Upon returning, a nurse shut her out, and carts and doctors crowded the room. A few minutes later he was pronounced dead.

She had taken Sophie to see him the day before. It nearly drove her apart when she put a crayon drawing on his chest, and told him about their home in New York. How much she missed her toys. And Nate was wonderful; he brought food from five-star restaurants to the room for her, always some for Harold, went back and forth from the hospital to the chateau.

Eleanor and Cyrus came to visit as well, and Roman thanked them many times for it. Her mother in her frantic worry had practically yelled at the staff. Cyrus eventually calmed her down.

Serena had wanted to come, but Blair insisted that her pregnant friend stay put, and rest. Stress wasn't good for the baby. And so she'd lied and said there was no need.

(And Chuck, well, it was best that he did not come to visit. It would have been distracting and awkward and a stupid thing to do.)

For those three days, she was always drained and exhausted, occupied and lonelier than ever. When there were moments she was alone with her father, she would feel him slipping away, like the inaudible breaths of death.

--

She cannot accurately describe what she felt. The cold horror piercing her, sliding down her spine, the disbelief, the feeling that everything was being projected in slow motion. But there were no tears. Not right away. Mechanically, she had called Roman and Nate, who brought Sophie with him.

And she would never forget Roman's cries, the moment he saw Harold's body lying still, half-covered by a white sheet. He burst into tears. Blair watched this scene, her emotions threatening to unravel, and yet she was strangely, numbly, detached from it all.

Harold belongs here, she thinks, in France, in Paris where he found his peace years ago. And one of the last things she will do for him is to make sure he stays where he was most happy.

--

The funeral was planned by her and no one else. She didn't want anyone else managing the flowers, or the location arrangements, the guestlist. And she needed it, despite breaking down when a framed picture of him was delivered, and upon receiving all the flowers, his favorites, that she had ordered hundreds of.

--

Rain is falling gently today.

She stands by the entrance of the cathedral with Roman and Nate, who has Sophie in his arms. The little girl has been incredibly understanding all throughout.

Dan comes, in Serena's place, she thinks, and for all the bad she had done to him when they were young, it only makes her feel humbled by his coming. She's glad Serena's having a child with someone like him.

"Thanks for coming." Nate extends a hand, shifting Sophie in his arms.

Dan nods, shakes his hand. "Don't hesitate, all right? If you need anything."

"Thanks."

Dan gives her a wan, compassionate smile, shakes Roman's hand and proceeds to find a seat.

"Mommy, are you okay?"

She tries to smile. "Of course, sweetie."

"I miss gwandpa."

"Me too."

Nate rubs the small of her back warmly, and she looks at him. His eyes say that he is there for her. Tears again threaten her resolve.

"Nathaniel."

For a moment, Blair shuts her tired eyes, hidden by the dark shades over them. In her state of mind for the past few days, she had missed even considering the fact that Chuck might come. It would not be him to stay away.

"How are you?' he inquires, approaching the four of them. But his eyes are on her.

"Fine."

"Your father was a good man. Helped me a couple of years ago during a crisis, and I'm—" He pauses, and she knows he is having difficulty with expressing his words. "I'm sorry I can't do more to help. I really am."

"Well, you're here," Nate intones. She can't help but glance at him and feel a bit sick to her stomach. He's been so amazing the past week, that the thought of hurting him is almost even more unbearable to her now. "Thank you."

"Of course I'm here." Chuck casts her a meaningful look, and then walks off to find a seat.

Blair hates all the pity on everyone's eyes; it makes it difficult to stay unbroken, to keep herself steady. When the priest begins saying all these things about life, and death, she shuts his voice out and pulls Sophie to her lap, holding her tightly, her gaze absent-minded.

Even without looking she knows Chuck's eyes are on her. Nate presses his lips against her brow and squeezes her hand affectionately.

--

After the ceremony, Blair breaks away and finds herself alone in the most beautiful garden. Mist is surrounding her. She'd told Nate that she needed to clear her head, and he took Sophie from her in response. She's grateful.

Now more than ever, she feels lost in the complications of her life. She wonders why this is happening to her, why she is being tormented. She misses Harold so much, the way he says "Blair Bear", the way he spoils her and Sophie, the way he grins at everyone. His energy.

She'd do anything for him to have lived, and yet she still cannot fully embrace the idea of his death.

There is some rustling behind her, but she doesn't bother to look.

"I was looking for you," a familiar voice says.

"Go away. I'm not in the mood."

"I know."

"Then what do you want?" she almost cries out, frustrated at everything.

"To make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," she spits out.

"You're not."

"Stop acting like you know me, Chuck."

"I'm not acting," he insists.

_I know you better than I know myself._

"What you're feeling right now—I know how it is," he tells her. Careful, he takes another step closer, her back against him. "The denial, the devastation. I understand what you're going through, Blair."

"It's not like I'm going to run away to Thailand for a sexcapade, though, is it? I have a family. I don't want to hurt them."

She knows how her words can cut him, hopes they're enough for him to go away. She can't have him here when she is like this. But again and again, he surprises her with how much he's grown up. He lets her hurt him, and he stays.

Like she did for him years ago.

"I don't need you here," she snaps. "And I don't want you here either, so go. Go back to Manhattan where you belong. Nobody asked you to be here!"

"Blair—"

Her voice is faltering, and she is desperate to have him go. "You being here doesn't help, you know. Stop—please, get out of here—"

He wounds his arms around her from behind, trying to hold on as the sobs shake her. Still she if fighting him. He murmurs things into her ear, and waits for her to calm down, his lips against the side of her face, touching her tears, kissing them. But to her, there is nothing. Only darkness exists in her now; and grief and loss and her father. There is nothing else she is thinking of but him.

"I won't leave yet," he tells her, but she doesn't hear it. "It's okay. Let it out."

And they stay like this, him with his head on her shoulder, hands clasping each other in front of her. She is restless, first, and then she calms down and steadies. Proof of her coming back is her realizing how strange the two of them might appear, how much of herself she had bared to him. Suddenly she feels ashamed.

"I'm fine now." She sniffles and unties herself from him. "Really."

"Are you sure?"

She can't even meet his eyes. "Yes. And I have to go."

"He's waiting," Chuck finishes for her, lightly, as if he was expecting it. There is no hint of bitterness he allows her to see now. "Go on."

She can think of nothing else to say but a last look, which she hopes he understands, and is enough.

**I just want to share some quotes with you guys:**

_The saddest thing in the world, is loving someone who used to love you._

_Anonymous_

_Ever has it been that love knows not its own depths until the hour of separation._

_Kahlil Gibran  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to all those who reviewed:) You guys made my day. (Thanks, especially, to Annablake for great advice. I'm trying to incorporate it in)**

**I'm not sure in which chapter, but I think I mentioned that Blair can't help being with Chuck. I think that even if she really does love Nate, and even if she tells herself she doesn't love Chuck, a part of her is with Chuck. She can't resist it. She can't explain. She wants to let go, but she fears it, and it's too difficult for her to do. **

**I sort of "lent" Blair here my feelings:) Not about a guy though.**

He arrives at the chateau later than everyone else.

He'd lingered in that garden after she left, thinking about the trap he is in. Wanting to help, wanting her to open up to him, knowing there is not much he can do. And everything else. He still thinks he knows her more than anyone ever will, and he is worried that she will shut everyone out of this, that sorrow will kill a part of her.

He _knows_ her. Part of him is adamant.

But what about him? It's not being selfish. It's being lost. He doesn't know who he is, who he's been since the affair. He's been completely faithful to her, for one. She doesn't know of course, but he just needed to do it, to prove to himself that he could.

"Charles, there you are." Lily sweeps toward him, her eyes sympathetic and kind. "I've been looking for you."

"Why?"

"Carter Baizen wants to see you."

Chuck glances over to where she is motioning. Carter is leaning against the wall, his head tilted to give that impression of smugness, a drink in his right hand. Almost forgot how much he hated the guy.

"For what?"

"I have no idea. He mentioned something about business."

"The man's an ass."

"Don't cause a scene," she tells him knowingly. "Think of Blair."

"I won't." He makes his way to confront Carter, and is greeted by a nod.

"Bass. You know, I was surprised you came."

"And me you." He glares at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Paying my respects, of course. What else?"

"If I knew better, and I do, I'd say that—"

" That I'm here to cause trouble?" Carter places his hand on his shoulder, which earns him a look of contempt. Chuck shrugs his hand off harshly."Relax. Harold Waldorf deserves respect."

"You do anything today, and I swear, you'll wake up one day surrounded by elephants."

"Highly unlikely."

"Believe me, Baizen," Chuck growls lowly."One word."

"Why do you care so much anyways?" Carter raises his eyebrows leeringly, and it takes Chuck everything he has not to punch the look off of the bastard's face."Oh wait—it just came to me. He's Blair's father. Well, he was."

"She is one of my oldest friends."

"You can go with that."

"I suppose you have your own idiotic theory, then."

Carter grins. "You're still in love with her."

He refuses to acknowledge the heat rising to his face. Carter chuckles and sips his drink, dark eyes on him.

"Was I ever?" Chuck retorts, trying to seem unfazed. He meets Lily's eyes briefly, as if she is reminding him to stay calm.

"As if you two didn't play cat and mouse for years? Well, she was bound to end up with Nate anyway. We all knew that."

"Please. I never loved her." He pauses. "It was a game."

Carter narrows his eyes. "Let me rephrase what I said: I'm surprised you had the nerve to show up here. Not everything's in the past like you want everyone else to believe."

"I don't even know what you're implying. Check your fucking data next time before assuming anything else, Baizen," Chuck hisses menacingly.

"Oh, don't worry. I have."

He knows, he thinks in dread. He tries to discern something from the pair of eyes before him, a better clue, but all he sees are arrogance and victory. Chuck has never despised him more than he does now.

"Is this what you wanted to see me for?" Chuck demands. "To try and mess with me with your pathetic lies?"

"Careful there, Bass."

"Answer me. Is this what you wanted to see me for? Is this it?"

Carter smiles, steps forward so that his mouth is near Chuck's ear.

"You know what's pathetic, Bass? Adultery."

--

It's one of those nights when instead of sleeping, he lies wide awake, immersed in the darkness.

Carter's words are echoing in his mind; Chuck is trying to convince himself that the guy had no idea what he was talking about. Yet as bad as it looks, he isn't scared.

So what if someone knows? Carter would not tell, not right away. He'd use the information to get something he wants, and inflict more damage. That didn't concern him. Carter can have whatever he wants, as long as he doesn't hurt Blair.

For the past months, he's been wondering how it would end, this affair. And part of him had been anticipating it, so that everyone would finally know, so that he would be something more than just her secret. A mistake. He is tired of all this hiding and pretending. He only lets her push him around because she did the same thing for him, once, and he still carries guilt for pushing her away then.

And he hates it now.

For sure it would ruin them all, and Nate is like a brother he never had, but he can't help but think of the possibilities. A fresh start, a clean slate with her. Now he wonders why he let her go.

_Because I love her_, he had told Serena. A year ago, he had said the same thing to Nate, and he still meant it as much now—only now there could be no more happy endings, no more chances. _And I can't make her happy._

Blair never was happy with him for long, it was true. He always screwed things up, or dragged her down in his own problems. She could love him and they could be together, but real happiness would always elude them. He could try his best, his hardest, and everything would still fall before his eyes.

God, he's tragic. He blames his parents.

_Do you just want me to be as miserable as you?_

It was surprising how accurate her words had been, considering he himself was not even aware of it. Jealousy had driven him; blinded him. That and because he was a foolish boy who knew nothing about what truly mattered.

--

"How is everything there?' Serena's voice says into his ear.

"Fine," he lies. Chuck props himself out of bed, groaning. His head is pounding."I didn't realize I ordered a wake up call."

"Sorry, my hormones have me waking up early in the morning. And Dan's still on a flight back home." There is a slight pause. "How's Blair?"

Her name is like a splash of cold water for him."Devastated as expected."

"When are they coming back?"

Chuck pulls his shoulder up to hold the phone while he ties his bathrobe more securely. "As far as I know, they're going to be staying here for awhile. Keep Roman company for Christmas."

"She won't answer any of my calls. I called Nate, but he says they're doing the best they can right now. He's what she needs right now, you know."

"Yes. Well, he's a good guy."

"So when are you coming back?"

He's relieved she changed the subject by herself."Why, miss me already? I'm touched."

"Your cheery smile, your optimism—what's there to miss?"

He grins. "I miss you too, sis."

"So?"

"I'll be in Manhattan by tonight. Anything you want from Paris? Some craving you developed suddenly, maybe."

"You know what I really want right now?"

"Do I want to know?' he asks, as he is looking out the window of his hotel, standing in the warm sunlight, trying to shake the jet lag off. The city is even more beautiful bathed in light, he thinks. And he feels lonely staring at it alone.

"Why must everything be dirty to you? I was just going to say I wanted a burger."

"A _French_ burger?"

"Nope. Just a normal, greasy one with cheese and tomatoes and a quarter pound of beef.."

"You disgust me sometimes, sis."

"This coming from the infamous Chuck Bass."

"You can't blame the girls. You know it, I know it."

He hears her scoff softly. "Sure."

"I need to do some rounds on sights Bass Industries has here." He picks up his itinerary from a table, reads through the places and time slots, and wonders why he can never travel purely for personal reasons anymore. "Chat with you later?"

"All right. And could you buy my baby a nice crib, a few toys, will you? A onesie too."

He chuckles. "Do you realize how many rumors can be started if I stopped by a baby store? I'll be the next Tiger Woods. Or Jude Law, if you will."

"Tell Blair for me to have a Merry Christmas, and that Sophie's present will be waiting for her when they come home."

"Tell Nate."

"He's busy right now."

"So am I."

"Please?"

"Fine. I'll see if I can fit it in my schedule." He is, in reality, glad she's given him an excuse to visit her before he leaves. And he enjoys being a good, reliable brother—he won't admit that to anyone, of course, that he relishes the role. "No promises."

"Okay. Bye, then."

"Bye."

**TBC:) **


	8. Chapter 8

**I was supposed to post this before Christmas, but you know, holiday business. And since school started I haven't gotten a decent time with my laptop so I'm sorry for being late!**

**Consider this during the Christmas and New Year periods.**

--

_Amsterdam's freezing tonight. Tomorrow I've got a meeting with some potential investors, and as always I've got to check on our property here. Evaluate. That will go on until afternoon, I'm sure. Then dinner with some of my people. After, a final meeting to review my comments, profits and losses. _

_I'm staying at the Sofitel Amsterdam the Grand. It's very near the Van Gogh museum, the royal palace, Anne Frank's house, etc. Five-star, the service is good and a complete bar. Great scotch. You'd love it here. It's historic and romantic and elegant. _

Blair reads his message again. Not once did he mention how he felt, or if he was exhausted from flying all those hours without a single break. But then, nobody knows him like she does.

Whenever he travels, at the end of the day he tells her everything. A long text message with his itinerary—the places he's been to in detail, the people he's met, where he stays. Always, without fail. She amuses herself by thinking he is like a husband who was demanded to tell his wife everything.

It's his way of saying, she knows, that he isn't forgetting about her. That at the end of the day, she is still on his mind, and he is on hers.

So he doesn't tell her "I love you'. He sends a three-page text message. And instead if "I miss you", she replies back, with the same amount of facts.

But she prefers this, rather that he should say it, though she knows it already. It spares them both from having to respond. Would she say those words back to him? Maybe. Sometimes she can feel it at the tip of her tongue every now and then, but the memory of rejection so many years ago stops her and she says nothing. And she knows it will only make it harder when the time ends for them.

_I spent the entire day with Sophie. We played make-believe and tea, and went out for some hot chocolate with Nate. A snowball fight which I lost against them in the park. And by the end of the day she was so exhausted Nate had to carry her home before we ate dinner. You should've seen her. She was adorable. We stopped briefly by the Eiffel Tower. Tomorrow I think I'll visit my father. We're going home in a few days after all. Goodnight._

_---  
_

Just before leaving, Chuck had found her freezing and numb in the cemetery, the engraved letters of stone swimming in her tears. Her knees carved in snow. She did not tell him to go away and leave her alone, as last time. Her own silence, her defiance against the blistering cold wind, her silence isolated her from the rest of the world.

It felt like penance to her.

"I know how you feel," he had said, from behind once again. And when she said nothing, he continued slowly. "You feel like a ghost. You breathe and move and smile like one. You stop caring about so many things and it feels so. . .so heavy. All the grief. I know how it is."

His words, she thought at that moment, were perfect. And nobody else understood—only him, only Chuck Bass.

"Tell me it goes away," she almost pleaded, still unmoving. She cannot look at him. "Tell me how. I can't feel like this anymore, Chuck—do you understand? I feel like I'm drowning here."

She was surprised at herself for telling him that much, giving him room to come and break her defenses. Not even to Nate did she say it. But somehow she trusted that he would do the right thing with those words, that he alone could ever know because he had been through it.

"You have a great family, Blair. You still have a mother, a daughter, Roman, Cyrus, Serena. You have Nate. It's different when you have that many people who care."

"But does it ever go away?"

"It won't be the same with you," he insisted.

"But does it go away?"

"Yes. Eventually."

"How long?"

"Not for awhile."He paused. "You'll know it when it's not the first thing you think about everyday."

Then, quietly, he knelt down beside her and sat on his heels. They were still against the cold. And she felt his presence, his warmth breathe into her like fresh air on a spring day, a calm and comforting kind of rush.

Wanting to forget, wanting to feel him and forgo all her hesitations, she had put her head lightly on his shoulder, the argyle warm on her skin. And while he didn't flinch, he said nothing and did nothing either.

"I'm sorry, Chuck."

"I know," he said simply.

"I've been horrible to you."

"I know."

She sighed, looked down so that her forehead was leaning against his shoulder. "But I'm scared."

"I know." And he said it in a way that was understanding, affectionate but not pitying.

"Why don't I ever need to explain myself to you?"

He was silent. A bleeding second or two. And then he shifted his head around so that his lips were grazing her mahogany hair, the warmth of her head light on his skin. "Because you don't have to," he said. "Because I know you. Don't forget, I'm Chuck Bass."

Then he stood up and disappeared. Leaving a kiss on the forehead, a warm coat and words etched in her mind.

--

She and Nate lie on either side of Sophie, awake and silent and eyes on their little girl. Sophie had asked them to sleep with her after reading a fairytale and Blair fears that it is an effect of Harold's death. Sophie had never been scared to sleep by herself before.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here any longer?"

A voice out of darkness, she thinks.

Blair shifts. She buries her face in the crook between Sophie's head and shoulders. "Yes. I'm sure."

He pauses. 'I hope Roman will be okay here alone."

"It's too hard here for me,' she admits softly. "I see him everywhere. I still smell him. It's just too hard, Nate."

He searches for her hand with his, and with his arm gently on Sophie's legs, their skin mingle. And his eyes shine blue in the darkness. "I know," he says.

But he doesn't. She nods her head and closes her eyes.

When they get home it feels like a new life. Her home feels strange and alien, her bed, her rooms, her clothes—everything. Nate had to rush to the office and catch up on some work. And even though Sophie is glad to be home, Blair feels no change at all. The sadness is still there.

"Play, mommy?" Sophie asks, her Nate-like eyes staring up at hers. Blair smiles for her and nods.

"Of course. But remember we have Aunt Serena's party later, okay? We can't be late."

Sophie grins and saunters off to her room full of stuffed toys and dresses. Everything seems normal for her again, Blair thinks, and it's a relief for her that little girls can forget so easily, that her daughter isn't haunted like she is still.

---

"I've been gone a few weeks and look at you," Blair exclaims, smiling at her best friend's tummy. "I can see it now."

"Cravings." Serena grins sheepishly and looks down at Sophie. "Did you get my present, Sophie?"

"Yup."

"She loved it, S. She couldn't stop wearing that dress in front of the mirror."

"So how are you?"

"I'm fine."

Serena doesn't believe it, obviously, but they've been best friends long enough for her to pretend so, for Blair's sake. She is grateful for it.

"Where's Dan?" she asks quickly, to alleviate the awkwardness. "He should be here pampering you."

"Working. Nate?"

"Working." Blair puts a smile on her face. "What is happening to the world? It's New Year's Eve, for god's sake."

"Chuck's here, though."

Blair tenses, and she sweeps her eyes across the room to find him. "I thought he was in Amsterdam."

"He was. He came home today, like you guys."

"Oh."

"He said he'll be late, though."

Blair brings Sophie up in his arms, desperate that Serena not see the change in her, the silence filling their conversation awkwardly. She is sure she doesn't know about the affair. They are so careful, after all. Yet somehow she cannot seem to shake off the feeling that Serena is suspicious at the very least since she was, on her seventeenth birthday, the one who first discovered them.

"Uncle Chuck," says Sophie, glancing at Blair for encouragement.

"Yes, baby. Uncle Chuck's coming here."

"I have no idea why she adores him so much," Serena teases. "Genes, maybe."

Blair replies sarcastically. "Very funny."

"No, Uncle Chuck—" She points beyond Serena's head, to a mop of dark hair making its way through the crowd, a pinstripe suit with a pink bowtie. Blair hides a smile. Only Chuck Bass.

"Ladies."

He looks at her with discreet but shining eyes, lingering for a moment too long and smiles. He wounds an arm around his pregnant sister casually, looks down at her stomach and turns back to her. To her, he seems lighter and happier than she has seen him in a long time.

She and Chuck are in a good place.

"How was your flight?' he asks her, polite. "Blizzard is still pretty strong. I hope you didn't have to endure that."

"It was peaceful." She looks at Sophie, chuckles. "She was asleep for the most part."

"Good."

"How was yours?'

"I don't remember. I passed out in exhaustion as soon as I sat down."

She tries to control her lips from curving into a smile, half-fails and her eyes don't stray from him. All she can muster to think about is that she shouldn't smile, not here, not now.

"Nate's working right now," she volunteers. "Catching up on some paperwork, I think."

"It's a shame."

They exchange subtle looks. A thousand laughs and secrets behind them.

Blair almost laughs at this. They have been like teenagers, lately, in love and ecstatically in clandestine exchanging looks and texts. It reminds her of them years ago, before the Cotillion. But this time they are grown up, more careful and more careless.

That day in the cemetery had changed them, she realizes.

"Are you hungry?" Serena interjects, her eyes exploring them both. Curiosity. Blair remembers that she and Chuck, previously, had never spoken so amicably in public, so comfortably, and she shifts her eyes to Serena at once.

"No, thank you. I'll go get some drinks for us. Sis?"

"Just juice."

"For the little girl?'

"Juice!"

He doesn't ask what she wants, already knowing it. Blair smiles, and she realizes too that she hasn't smiled this much since her father died. It's been only a few weeks. She still feels guilty every time she laughs or smiles or feels even a little happy.

Chuck disappears behind the throngs of people, searching for non-alcoholic beverages considerately. Serena turns to Blair silently, studying her.

"What, S?"

"Nothing."

And it's right here, and it's obvious. But Blair ignores it, because she is happy with him right now and she wants to change nothing between them.

**I promise, the next chapter will be much better. But reviews please! **


	9. Chapter 9

In this penthouse suite he has bought for them, she sits alone on a stool, an elbow on the smooth marble countertop. A book is sprawled open on the surface. Earlier today a box of exquisite truffles had been sent to her office, while she was working son some designs for her mother, and there had been no card. No name, no return address. Now it sits near her book, its contents nearly half empty.

_Chuck Bass is a romantic. Who knew?_

_Well, now you do. That's all that matters._

It's been roughly a month since her father passed away. She still thinks about it, every single day. But she's grateful too, to him, especially, for coaching her out of her destructive grief, for teaching her that letting go is not wrong.

Suddenly there is a sound, the click of a shutter, a camera. And in that moment she fears for awhile, that it's someone who has discovered their affair and she turns around, half already in panic.

But it's only Chuck. He grins at her, mischievous, as her heart floods with relief and adrenaline.

"What the hell, Chuck!"

He pulls out his own stool and sits across her, an amused smile on his face. "Hello to you too, lover." And she remembers him saying those exact words, once, when she had found him high, smoking hash on school grounds.

"Why are you reading this? The Age of Dissonance?"

"It's about Archer, who is engaged to May and he thinks he is in love with her until he meets her cousin, Ellen. A runaway, almost. They have an affair, but she breaks it off eventually. Archer is heartbroken."

"You and me and Nate," he clarifies. "I get it now."

It was the play we had in senior year," she adds. "I played Ellen, of course. You, on the other hand, made some excuse to skip it and gallivant around with a nanny."

"Ah, yes. But she had nothing on you, Blair."

"That was crazy, wasn't it? You chasing some woman you barely remembered from a gentleman's club.' She sees his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Nate told me all about it."

"Well, it wasn't as bad as you and Carter Baizen."

"I was drunk," she defends. "And lonely and depressed."

"Because of all you did to that teacher? Ms. Carr, if I recall."

"How did you find out? We weren't even speaking then."

He slides his hands onto her thighs, back and forth, and releases a shaky breath deeply. "Nathaniel wasn't just your friend, you know," he answers with a smile.

She is struck with the thought of how important Nate is to both of them. Yet this is what they are doing behind his back, with a silent understanding that they both love him and care deeply.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Blair."

"Me too.'

"Do you think things would have been different? If I had found you before Carter did."

"Maybe."

She is looking into his dark eyes. They are quiet, sincere and deep-set and intense. Such a contrast from Nate's boyish, blue ones. Full of light.

Then he leans forward, putting his lips to her skin, and she feels the beautiful restraint on his part. The gentleness masking the hunger she too is feeling. He leaves a kiss just above her shoulder, on the line of her jaw. His nose smooth as he moves up to his cheek. And then he moves a hand to her face, to steady her, as he kisses his way to her lips.

She puts her lithe hands to the back of the neck, and furiously they lead each other into the bedroom and shut the door.

--

A lone ray of light touches her wrist resting on his shoulder. Her eyes are wide open. Absentmindedly she watches little speckles of dust float around, as if radiated by the moonlight.

The past month has been a blur to her. Meeting Chuck insanely almost everyday, addicted, lying even more than she has ever had to. And all these feelings rushing through her blood when she thinks of him. The guilt when she looks at Nate lessening slowly—she is becoming immune to it, and she doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

"When I was in China," he tells her suddenly, his voice clear in the room. She suspects he wants to distract her. "I had this old maid named Xinjiang. She came in after I came home from work, cleaned my flat, did my laundry, restocked my food—everything. And she always left me noodles for dinner, sometimes dumplings and desserts. She was amazing, Blair."

She chuckles. "A Chinese Dorota."

He shifts so his body is straight and he is staring at the ceiling. "Exactly. I wanted to take her here with me, but she had a family, she said. Two sons, five grandchildren. Her husband had died years ago of cancer."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because. I want you to know how I lived for those years."

Difficult words for him. The equivalent of cutting his heart out and giving it to her, she knows. And she is glad he's opening up to her, that he is trying hard for her. But for what? She has been so happy the last few weeks with him. It will only make it so much more painful when it ends.

"When you left I thought it was because of me, somehow. It was when I just got engaged to Nate."

"You know it was business."

"Yes. But it was so much of a coincidence, you leaving just a few weeks after he proposes and I say yes."

"I didn't leave because of that, technically," he admits. "They needed someone to control China's growing market, nominated me. I didn't refuse. I could have, but I didn't."

"I remember Nate dragging me along to see you off. He really missed you, Chuck. Especially when he wanted to name you godfather to Sophie."

"Really?"

"I objected, of course."

"I would've been good at it," he defends.

"But you'd also give her the first drink of her life and teach her about things like that. So we chose Tripp instead."

"He's in the senate now, right?"

"Model citizen," she confirms. "Just like all the Vanderbilts."

"I've been home for a few months and look what's happened. My sister is pregnant. I'm having an affair, with you. And your father. . ."

"Passed away." She looks up to him, determined to show no sadness now. "It's okay. You can say it."

"Your father passed away. Nothing stays the same for long here in the Upper East Side. Everything's always changing."

"I think about that too."

Does it still surprise her, how much they have in common? No. There is and always will be the minute and silent understandings between them, and even now within the intimacy of words, she feels it. Whereas months ago they had been cold and silent lovers. Nobody else can bear her silence, drench in it, and know exactly what it means more than he can.

A second later he moves closer to her, smiling awkwardly, and she cannot bear this pained look on him. He is, she realizes, as much stuck as she is.

"I don't want this to ever end,' she whispers to him, burrowing into him. She feels him kissing her brow.

"I'll fight like hell to make sure it won't."

Sometimes she wishes for him to fall in love with someone else, a woman much simpler and better and more innocent. Someone she can trust to love him deservingly. Even now, she knows she will never be that woman for him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Intense chapter, guys. . .**

The first time he had bought her flowers, he was seventeen and naïve. Not a single of the red roses ever reached her. He had thrown all of them but one, which he offered to the interior designer Lily introduced to them.

_I'm Chuck Bass._

Then when Gossip Girl announced Blair would be returning from Europe, he tried to appear unaffected. Having wasted away his summer without her. But he couldn't be indifferent. And this time they were yellow roses, beautiful and golden, and yet again she did not touch them. In the shadows, he had met her triumphant eyes as she smiled and kissed someone else.

It did not take long for them to play their games again, chasing each other in circles, halting every now and then and turning. They had agreed to wait for the right time, although he doubts now how much he truly meant that. And then his father died, leaving him an orphan. He pushed everyone away, disappeared to Bangkok, and was dragged back a month later by Jack Bass.

"I'm Chuck Bass!" he yelled. From the edge of the rooftop, in his drunken stupor, he could barely make out the blurry lights, the faces of Blair and Jack.

"No one cares."

She, against the cold of the winter wind, stepped forward and looked up at him. "I do," she told him, raising her voice. "Can't you see? I care."

That had been a long time ago. The next time he purchased her flowers, it had been for an apology, for choosing his fears and vices above her when she did not deserve it. He remembers her saying she had had enough of it, that only he didn't believe in himself. But most of all, he remembers her throwing his flowers into the elevator, just missing his foot, as the doors closed in on him.

--

Today he decides to give it another shot. This time the bouquet is composed of purple orchids, vibrant and light, because he knows will always white flowers pale next to her. He wants to cheer her up a bit, considering how disheartened she seemed a few nights ago.

He steps out of the elevator, controls the growing grin on his face, and steps out confidently. When he bought them the suite, he requested personally that security be private. This is where they are most safe.

The key is inserted and removed, the door swung open and shut quietly.

"Blair?"

He walks into the bedroom where she is still, her eyes on the television screen, watching, and it takes only a few moments for him to realize it's his face on the screen. He hears Carter Baizen's voice. And then he knows exactly what this is.

"Oh, God. Turn it off, Blair." She glances at him expressionless and ignores him. "Blair, turn it off, don't watch this—I'm going to kill him, the bastard—"

He can only stand here, watching along with her, but knowing every terrible word coming. No clues can be seen on her face. Not one. She sits there quiet and still and attentive.

"_She is one of my oldest friends."_

"_You can go with that."_

"_I suppose you have your own idiotic theory, then."_

"_You're still in love with her."_

Chuck is frozen on the spot, breathing shallowly, and for a brief second he is amazed at the composure of his face on television.

"_Was I ever?"_

And he recalls that conversation with his mind running desperately ahead, fumbling. He looks up and curses. Blair still doesn't move, doesn't say anything. He knows this is the worst kind of reaction from her.

"_Please. I never loved her. It was a game."_

"Where did you get that tape?"

"It was delivered. " Her tone is evenly smooth. "With love, from Carter."

The dread almost knocks the air out of him; his fingers are shaking in anger.

"Baizen."

"I'm glad he did, though."

"What?"

"Makes me realize how stupid I'd been."

"About what?" he asks loudly.

Blair stands and throws her hands into the air, surprising him.

"Everything! Carter Baizen knows about this, and given how much he hates you for sending him away years ago, this won't stay with him for long." And then, as if weary, adds, "I think part of you meant what you said."

"I only said that to rebuff him," he bites out. "I swear to you, it was a lie."

"It's not the first time you said that."

"I lied then too."

When she looks up to him, he finds her eyes teary and doubtful, and it wrenches his gut to see her this way again. A tiny quiver on her lip betrays her. He knows everything in her is fighting not to crack.

This is it, he thinks. However painful this whole affair has been for him, at least they were partly together. But there would be no more chances for him.

The video breaks off suddenly, and a new scene emerges. It's Carter fucking Baizen with that stupid smirk on his face.

"You were right, Bass," he says. "But I hope you don't mind my little. . .present. Oh and before I forget, Mrs. Archibald—well done. "

He clicks off. The room is now heavy with silence and darkness, and he wants to say something to try and salvage all this. But whatever he tells her, it won't change. And anyway, he is rendered speechless by the fury threatening to burst out of him, at her, at Carter, at himself.

"Blair—"

She cuts him off. "I don't need to hear it. We have to end this, Chuck. There's no other option."

"There is. I'll find Baizen, I'll blackmail him or bribe his silence—whatever he wants. He clearly just wants something and it won't be hard to find out what it is."

"But he's dangerous," she retorts. "He can reveal this in a whim! And who knows, maybe if he knows, then someone else knows too."

He throws the flowers across the room with one hand; it lands scattered across the corner of the room, a mess of color. "You're being a coward."

"And you're one to judge?"

"I said I'd fight for this. At one little scare you decide to just pack up and leave and pretend nothing ever happened. We can fix this."

"Chuck, we can't."

He knew it, feared it even. Yet hearing her say those words sting more than he could have imagined.

"Don't leave." His own tongue feels dry at his sharp words; she's already begun to gather the few things she brought here in the first place, and head out the suite. The fire in him wants to burst in fury. "We can fix this! If there's anyone who could, it's us."

"Fix what?' she demands, storming out into the hallway with Chuck following her. "This isn't even a real relationship! It's a game like you said, Chuck."

She will never know how much those words sting.

"All you want is an excuse to leave," he snaps angrily. A few guests passing through are staring, but he spares them no glance. "Admit it. You've been waiting for something like this to happen."

She stops abruptly and turns back at him, eyes haunting. When she speaks she speaks in a quiet and disgusted tone.

"You're sick."

"Come on. You're scared, and you're too much of a coward to actually end things. So you wait for something like this, and look now—it's a perfect excuse!"

"Did you really think I would leave Nate and Sophie for you?"

"Then why let this happen for so long?"

"I don't know."

He steps closer and grabs the bag from her roughly. Her eyes are shining. "Answer me."

"I don't know! I shouldn't have succumbed to this. I shouldn't have."

She wrings her bag from his grasp, turning on her heels for the elevator. Her finger reaches out for the button, but instead, finds itself pressing the back of his hand. He isn't going to her walk away just like this. Not so easily. This is real to him and it is to her too; he knows she is lying to protect herself.

He finds her staring at him silently. As if asking him to remove his hand, which he refuses.

"I know you love Nate, and I know you love your daughter. I know you mean the world to them. But you know what? I love you too. They don't get to have you all to themselves because of a few papers you signed. It's not fair."

He wants to tell her he loved her even then, even when he couldn't say it. But he was a boy and now he's a man and he said it. That's the difference.

Her eyes widen. He pulls himself straight, his hand still firm over the arrowed button, his breaths the only noise aside from muffled sounds throughout the hall. His confession rings in his mind, already telling him how much of a mistake it was, how idiotic he acted. But if it keeps her here, even just for this night, it will be worth it.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out now, shaking her head. "It was stupid of me—thinking I could have both of you. But I don't want them to have to go through this. This is a mistake. And it's over, Chuck. We saw this coming."

God damn it. All of this. His eyes scan her struggling features, the suppressed blanket of emotions she is hiding, the determination. He cannot stop her from leaving.

Reluctantly, he stands aside and removes his hand stiffly. Avoids her looks of pending regret, as she lights the figure of an arrow pointing down. They stand apart like this, walls up higher than ever on this final night, and he feels his hands thrust themselves into his pockets roughly.

"I'm tired of this too. The secrecy, the guilt, the lies—"

"You said you didn't want it to end."

"I didn't."

"Then why are you making it look so damn easy to leave?"

As a sign of defiance, he doesn't move. He stands there looking at her blankly, feeling smoke replacing the fury in his bones, even as the elevator doors open up and she steps in, the doors closing in on her.

Almost a decade ago, he had stepped into an elevator with flowers at his feet, watching her face. The doors closed in on him. Now it's the other way around.

And the flowers this time lay a mess on the corner of their bedroom.


End file.
